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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288285">Midsummer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff'>danpuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bonding, Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, Jealousy, M/M, Post Mpreg, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:20:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,775</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25288285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/danpuff/pseuds/danpuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A lifelong bond forged during the war - a bond to protect. A bond to strengthen. And the repercussions of what "forever" means post-war.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Severus Snape, Harry Potter/Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Midsummer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry Potter loves his life most days. </p><p>He loves his Wimbourne cottage, with it’s yellow-white stones and its faded brown door. He loves the bright green grass, and the colorful blooms, and the small pond. He loves the cozy living room, with its plush furniture and stacks and stacks of books. He loves the spacious kitchen where he cooks for his family and hosts tea parties with his girls. </p><p>He loves his husband. His brave, strong, snarky husband. He loves the tall, slender body that towers over him. He loves the hooked nose that he often kisses and taps and strokes. He loves the thin lips, and tasting them as often as he can. He loves the elegant hands that chop and stir - that bandage scratches and scrapes - that mend broken bones - that caress him so tenderly. He loves the black eyes that look at him as if he matters - really matters - matters more than anything. </p><p>He loves his daughters. He loves Lily with her copper hair and emerald eyes and pearly smile. He loves Rose, though her platinum blonde hair and silver eyes are an awful reminder that she is not really his. And he certainly loves Iris, with his own wild black hair and Severus’s intense black eyes. </p><p>He loves his family and his home. He loves them so much he can hardly believe his luck. </p><p>And one day a year - one awful day - he hates them all.</p>
<hr/><p>It is a day midsummer, harder to bear than the anniversary of the war. </p><p>It was the day he had chosen to Bond with Severus. The Hero and the Spy’s wartime romance bred desperation. A Bond discovered in a dusty tome - promising protection and strength - promising forever. He had been nineteen and madly in love, and terrified for the man. Rightfully so, for the day of the ceremony there was an attack. He had watched Severus fall on the battlefield, and had failed to fight off Ron and Hermione Apparating him away. He failed to escape the Order’s protection. He failed to save Severus. </p><p>It was Draco Malfoy who succeeded where he failed. Draco Malfoy who saved Severus’s life with the Bond meant for Harry.</p>
<hr/><p>The girls escape the house that day to chase each other around the yard. They pick pears and eat them in the tree house and sing songs. They pick flowers and weave them into crowns by the pond. The skip stones in the water. They only rush inside to use the restroom, and they avoid Harry like the plague. </p><p>Harry, for his part, scrubs the house top to bottom. Not one spark of magic is used. He cleans until he is exhausted and aching. He thinks about Severus’s hands on his shoulders this morning and how he’d shrugged out of their grip. He thinks about Severus in the basement now, brewing to kill time. Brewing to avoid Harry the way the girls do. </p><p>Part of Harry is glad for it, for he cannot stand his husband today. A part of Harry is bitter, wishing Severus would try harder. Part of Harry is guilty for being so cold. Part of Harry yearns for his husband, more now than any other day, because Severus never feels less his than he does now.</p>
<hr/><p>That night, the girls quietly collaborate on a puzzle. Severus sits stiffly in his armchair with a book he only pretends to read. Harry sits with a glass of firewhisky, watching his daughters. He thinks of apologizing for his foul mood. He thinks of telling them he loves them, all of them, even when he hates them. </p><p>Lily, who is Ginny in miniature but for the eyes. Ginny who loved him, though he loved another. Ginny who Bonded him to make him stronger. Ginny who died to save his life - weak from childbirth, weak from sharing magic - and when the Killing Curse hit Harry, and she tugged on the Bond to save him, the strain of it killed her. </p><p>Rose, who so favors Draco, but for her hooked nose and thin lips. An ethereal, fairy-like beauty with all of Draco’s poise and Severus’s mind and Harry’s love. A beloved, cursed reminder of Draco’s claim on his husband. </p><p>Iris, the product of their love - love that feels so brittle some days. </p><p>Reminders of all they had lost in the war, all they had sacrificed, and the price they still pay to this day.</p>
<hr/><p>When Draco arrives, he is all smiles. Rose shouts “Father!” and rushes to hug him. Draco calls her “little duckling” and gives her little gifts. He only sees her a few times a year. Most of his time and effort is given to his proper pureblood heir at home. Draco settles down to tell her about her stepmother and her half brother and their manor. Even Lily and Iris listen excitedly to his mysterious hints of work as an Unspeakable. </p><p>It is Draco who puts his daughters to bed as Harry finishes off his firewhisky and watches his husband. Severus is paler than normal. He has not even flipped the page for several long minutes. He dreads this day as much as Harry does. </p><p>It isn’t Severus’s fault, really. The Bond kept him alive. And it keeps him alive, year after year, with Draco’s help. </p><p>When Draco returns, he wears a smug grin and holds out a silver-wrapped gift to Severus. “Happy anniversary.” </p><p>Severus snatches the gift and tosses it to the floor. His sharp face is twisted in fury, eyes blazing. “How romantic,” he snarls. </p><p>Harry smirks against his empty glass. Draco shrugs and Vanishes the gift, though they can tell he is stung. </p><p>For the worst part of it all, is that Draco loves Severus. All the way back in the beginning, he had loved Severus. Loved him enough to forge the Bond rather than watch him die. Loved him enough to do it, though he was mocked for it - Bonding his older, ugly, half-blooded ex-professor. Loved him enough to attempt to sabotage Harry and Severus’s reconciliation after the war, though they all knew Draco would never have married him. That no child of theirs would ever inherit, or carry the Malfoy name. </p><p>“Shall we?” Draco asks, extending his hand. </p><p>Harry gives them a few minutes. Watches his husband stalk proudly upstairs, Draco trailing behind. When they are gone, he watches the dying fire. He weighs his options, wondering what sort of year this is for him. </p><p>A masochistic year, as it turns out. Harry retires to his bedroom and undresses in the dark. He climbs into his bed alone. He lays on the right side, smoothing his hand over the cool sheets where Severus should be. His stomach churns, heart racing, as he stares up at the ceiling. For a time, he can only hear Rose’s snoring in the room across the hall. </p><p>Then there are sounds from the guest room - the creaking of bedsprings sends Harry’s heart into his throat. He considers throwing up a Silencer after all. Or locking the door, to keep his husband from joining him after. He hearts Draco grunt. More creaking from the bed, squeakier and faster. Severus moaning - because he <i>likes</i> it, goddamn him. Headboard hitting the wall. The quiet crackle of magic as the Bond is satisfied. And the groaning of two men as they are also satisfied. </p><p>Harry’s hand rests low on his belly, just above his shameful erection. He’s touched himself before listening to them. Imagining them, even. It’s as arousing as it is nauseating, and he hates them all the more for it.</p>
<hr/><p>It is over an hour before Severus creeps into the bedroom. Harry had listened to their whispered conversation, though he could not distinguish the words. Had listened as they walked downstairs for Severus to see Draco out. Then the shower down the hall. Then silence, for a time. Harry is not sure what Severus does in the silence. He can only assume settling himself down. It stirs within Harry the need to go to him, to comfort him, to reassure him. </p><p>Instead he lays there and stares at the ceiling and waits. </p><p>Severus says not a word as he gets into bed. Minutes tick by, but Severus is no closer to sleep than Harry is. And Harry thinks of this horrible day and his mood blighting it further. He thinks of his coldness to his husband and children. He thinks of all the years they have done this, and how it never gets any easier. Not for him. Not for Severus.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers after a time. </p><p>A cool hand brushes his cheek and, when it is not rebuffed, grasps and turns him. The black eyes swim with too many emotions to name. It calls to all of the conflict within Harry and it soothes him, knowing that the burden is shared. “Don’t be,” Severus replies. </p><p>“You don’t deserve all this,” Harry mutters.</p><p>“You’re right,” Severus agrees. The slight shift of his body tells Harry that Severus wants to kiss him, but refrains. The hand moves from his cheek up into his hair, stroking through it. “You stayed. You’ve stayed all this time. I do not deserve that.” </p><p>Though Harry had known Severus would share a lifelong Bond with Draco, and knew what it would entail, he sought him out after the war. It took time to convince Severus that he loved him - loved him enough to be with him whatever the cost. Loved him enough to love Rose when she was born, to give her the Potter name and raise her as his own. </p><p>Harry loves him more than anything. Had loved him since he was eighteen, and has not stopped loving him since. </p><p>“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Harry grumbles. Then, though he is conflicted, he kisses his husband. A soft brush of lips - wondering where that mouth has been tonight, what it has done - the tentative probe of tongue, a welcome in, and Harry is clinging to him, drinking him in. </p><p>Harry wonders what he’s done with his hands, with his tongue, what parts of him still tingle from Draco’s touch. The darkness that has suffocated him all day is alive - alive with bitter jealousy and boiling rage and sharp possession. Severus’s mouth tastes like gratitude and relief, and he is welcoming when Harry rolls on top of him. Does not mind when Harry sets about reclaiming him. </p><p>Draco might have a piece of Severus one night a year - one night a year for the rest of their lives. But even then, whatever Draco takes, Severus is still Harry’s - Harry's every day, forever.</p>
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